


Movement 3: Gavotte

by InsaneMouse (orphan_account)



Series: Fiction Drabbles I Write During English Class [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Audience of One, No Actual Relationship Mentioned, Other, Piano, The Music Nerd I Am
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 08:46:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6747142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/InsaneMouse





	Movement 3: Gavotte

John took a breath. Two. Another. It was one of those times where he regretted choosing a piano to play instead of a stringed instrument. It wasn't as though he was  _bad_ at playing piano - no, he was quite talented - but some songs his instructor forced into his hand were meant for a violin or cello, rather than ivory keys.

Keep playing, keep playing, you can do this, John. The audience came to see you play, you can't disappoint them. 

Oh, but his fingers could barely keep up. The tendons in his knuckles were inflamed, swollen, aching from the stretch to hit four notes on one hand at once, addled with trills. But he couldn't stop - he adored the old but well-loved grand piano, how many hours he spent hunched over it just to make something  _right._

Suite No. 5 in C Minor Gavotte, J.S. Bach. John sort of hated the guy got making his pieces thirty minutes long, but he absolutely despised his piano instructor for making him play the damned music on  _his_ instrument rather than an actual cello player. 

However, he was almost done with this movement. Would it make any difference if he stopped playing now, give himself a break? After all, the only audience he had was none other than Dave Strider. He could feel the shade-clad eyes boring into the back of his head, scrutinising his body and movements. How long had he been there? Since the Prelude?

Sweat rolled down the side of John's face. He was so stressed about this - he didn't know why. 

Lost in his own world, he was oblivious to Dave standing up, walking across the room. He felt Dave's thumbs press on his upper back, trying to bring his back to a reality where there was more than just one piano note after another. "John. Relax," he said simply. 

John showed no sign of even registering either Dave's presence or his request, still focused on the keys. Dave applied a bit more pressure to his thumbs and started massaging the tension out of his back. "John, you're pushing yourself too hard." A small kiss on the back of his neck brought him back, his callused fingers finally slowing to a stop. "Let me see your hands. You've been playing - without stopping - for two hours." John grunted, in a daze. Had it been that long?

John lifted his hands out to Dave, who promptly slapped a bag of ice on them. "Y'know, for someone who hates Bach's guts as much as you, you seem to have a liking to playing his music. Your hands are going to be so sore." He nodded. Dave held the ice bags to John's fingers for awhile more before carefully leading him away from the piano, guiding him back to Earth. "Just leave it alone."

"I was just... focused."

"I understand, bro. Don't push yourself like that, though, you're going to wear out the elasticity in your knuckles."

John agreed silently again. Something about Dave - there was just something  _with him -_ that was so only  _he_ could draw John's attention away from music. It was quite a shock to John when he learned Dave had a liking to classical just as he did - he expected Dave to be in to more techo-electronic. No, that was his bro's thing.


End file.
